Chapter 85

Third Person’s POV

Outside the Grand Hall, eight-year-old Prince Matthew paused mid-step.

The sound had reached even the distant corridors.

Not music.

Not laughter.

Screaming.

“Amelia, what’s that sound?” he asked, turning toward his attendant with innocent curiosity.

Amelia followed his gaze toward the grand hall doors, “I’ll find out, Your Highness.”

Concern flickered briefly across her face before she quickly approached a nearby guard. After a short exchange, she returned and lowered herself to Matthew’s level.

“Your Highness, His Majesty is testing his new hunting dogs.”

“The hunting dogs?” Matthew tilted his head. Then his eyes wandered past the open doors where a scene unfolded before him. He could see a man struggling against several guards. He could hear desperate pleading. “Then why is that man begging?”

Amelia followed his gaze and immediately recognized Duke Christian Silvervein.

“That’s because the dogs aren’t hunting an animal,” she answered quietly. “The only daughter of House Silvervein is in there. The man pleading is Duke Christian.”

Matthew fell silent.

His eyes lingered on Christian’s desperate figure. On the little girl surrounded by snarling hounds. On the nobles watching without daring to interfere.

“I see.”

The words barely left his lips.

“Father is…”

He did not finish the sentence.

Because he already knew.

“Your Highness,” Amelia said gently, stepping forward, “this won’t be a pleasant sight. We should return to your chambers.”

Instead, Matthew began walking toward the hall.

“Your Highness?”

Amelia hurried after him, but the young prince did not stop.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the entire room seemed to shift.

One by one, conversations died.

Even the nobles closest to the throne stepped aside as the Crown Prince made his way through the sea of guests.

The crowd parted instinctively as the Crown Prince walked forward.

A small child.

Yet somehow commanding more attention than anyone present.

Christian looked up first.

Then Lena.

Then Arthur.

Matthew stopped several paces before the throne and bowed properly.

“Greetings, Father.”

The hall became so quiet that even the crickets outside the palace seemed loud.

Arthur rested his chin against his hand, mildly amused.

“And what brings my son here?”

Matthew raised his head, “I was passing by when I heard about this event you were hosting.”

His voice remained calm despite the dozens of eyes fixed upon him.

“Do allow me to object.”

A ripple spread through the hall.

Several nobles visibly stiffened.

Object?

To the King?

Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“From my perspective…” he continued carefully, “…this does not seem like a proper event.”

Arthur’s smile disappeared.

The room instantly grew colder.

The King’s voice rumbled through the hall.

“And you dare criticize how I choose to amuse myself?”

Matthew swallowed.

His hands balled into fists inside his sleeves.

No one noticed.

No one except Christian.

“No, Father. I do not object to your amusement.” Matthew carefully chose each word. “I simply think the hunt is unsatisfying.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“The prey is too small. Too young. Too weak.” Matthew gestured toward Lena. “A King deserves stronger prey for his hunting dogs.”

For the first time, confusion appeared on several faces.

Even Arthur seemed intrigued.

Matthew continued before anyone could interrupt.

“A larger prey would provide a greater challenge. A stronger opponent would bring greater entertainment.” Then his voice lowered ever so slightly. “I merely thought that allowing your dogs to hunt a little girl might… hurt Your Majesty’s reputation.”

The final words hung heavily in the air.

Christian’s eyes widened.

So did several nobles’.

Matthew’s courage faltered almost immediately after speaking.

For the briefest moment, his gaze dropped.

His shoulders stiffened.

The brave image cracked just enough for Christian to see the frightened child beneath it.

The prince was afraid.

Terrified, perhaps.

Yet he had stepped forward anyway.

And that was precisely why Christian never forgot that moment.

Arthur stared at his son for several seconds.

Then a long sigh escaped him.

“If my dear son says as much…” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve lost interest.”

Relief swept through the hall.

“Remove the dogs. Send the girl away. Continue the music.”

The handlers immediately obeyed.

Chains rattled as the hunting dogs were dragged away. Christian tore free the moment the guards released him and rushed across the floor.

“Lena!”

His daughter collided into his arms and burst into tears.

Meanwhile, servants hurried to refill goblets. Musicians resumed playing. Conversations slowly returned, as though nothing had happened at all.

Matthew simply turned away.

Amelia quickly stepped beside him and guided him toward the exit.

As they reached the doors, Matthew felt a gaze upon him.

He glanced back.

Lena was staring at him through tear-filled eyes from her father’s embrace.

For a moment, neither child spoke.

Then Matthew offered her a small smile.

Gentle.

Quiet.

Reassuring.

As though he had not just stood before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

As though he himself had not been afraid.

The doors closed behind him moments later, and his figure disappeared from sight.

But neither Christian nor Lena ever forgot that moment.

Because for a brief moment, within a hall full of nobles, knights, and powerful men who chose silence, a frightened child had been the only one brave enough to stand against a king.

—

“Sir Christian?”

The call pulled Christian from his thoughts.

He blinked.

Only then did he realize he had been standing there in silence for far too long.

Across the veranda, Miu tilted her head slightly, waiting patiently for his response. The afternoon breeze stirred a few loose strands of her hair, but she made no attempt to fix them.

Christian swallowed.

His chest felt unusually heavy.

“Are you not angry?”

The question came out before he could stop himself.

Miu blinked.

“Angry?” She rested a hand lightly against her chest and let out a small chuckle, “Me?”

Christian’s hands slowly curled into fists.

“Lena and I owed you our lives,” his voice sounded rough, “We both knew what kind of man Arthur was. We both knew what kind of ruler you could have become.”

His eyes lowered.

“I saw it with my own eyes. Even back then.”

The memory of a small prince standing before the throne flashed through his mind. A frightened child. Yet brave enough to oppose a king.

“You had the potential to become far greater than your father ever was,” his jaw tightened, “And yet when the time came, I chose the rebellion.”

The words tasted bitter.

“I betrayed your kindness.”

A shaky breath escaped him.

“I chose to sacrifice you.”

The confession lingered between them.

Years of guilt.

Years of regret.

Years of wondering whether he had condemned an innocent child to a fate worse than death.

“When I think about everything that must have happened after that night…” his voice faltered, “…all the suffering you must have endured because of our choices…”

The tears finally came.

Christian looked away.

Ashamed.

Unable to meet her eyes.

For several moments, neither of them spoke.

Then Miu laughed softly.

Not mockingly.

Not bitterly.

Just… gently.

The sound made Christian look up.

Miu’s expression had softened.

“Sir Christian.”

She smiled.

“When I was a child, nothing in my life belonged to me. From the moment I could walk, I followed instructions. How to speak. How to stand. How to smile. Even when to remain silent.”

A distant look entered her eyes.

“I was always told to lower my head. I couldn’t oppose my father. I couldn’t question him. I couldn’t even excel too much.“

Her smile turned faint.

“If I was too brilliant, I would attract his attention. If I was too incompetent, I would anger him.”

The absurdity of it still felt ridiculous, even now.

“So I spent my childhood trying to exist in the middle.”

Her gaze drifted toward the gardens below.

“Not too bright. Not too dull. Just enough to survive another day.”

Her voice lowered.

“I became timid. The kind of child who walked while staring at the ground.”

Christian remained silent.

Listening.

“Then I met you and Lena.”

Miu’s smile returned.

A genuine one.

“And for the first time in my life, I looked up to him,” Miu laughed again, “My mother scolded me terribly afterward.”

The memory made her shoulders shake slightly.

“But that day was important to me. That was the first time I ever looked my father in the eye.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Miu’s gaze turned distant, “Before my mother died, she told me something.”

Christian watched her carefully.

“She said power would eventually consume whoever shall rise to that throne. She told me to survive. To watch. To witness the kingdom destroy itself.”

For a moment, the only sound was the rustling wind.

“In the beginning…” Miu smiled sadly. “That was why I continued living. I didn’t have dreams. I didn’t have ambitions. I didn’t even have hope. I simply wanted to live long enough to see how it all ended.”

Then she looked around.

At the palace.

At the gardens.

At the kingdom beyond.

And smiled.

“But I was wrong.”

Christian’s throat tightened.

“The kingdom didn’t fall.”

Miu’s eyes shone warmly.

“The people smile. The children laugh. Lena smiles. And for the first time in my life…” She paused, “…so do I.”

Christian felt something catch painfully in his chest.

Miu’s smile grew brighter.

“If the rebellion had never happened, I would still be trapped in that palace.”

She looked directly at him.

“No. I would probably be dead.”

The words struck harder than any accusation could have.

“So tell me.”

Her expression softened.

“How can I resent you for that?”

Christian stared at her.

Unable to speak.

Unable to look away.

Miu leaned back slightly.

“What you all did was right. What you all did… was just.”

A small silence followed.

Then Miu smiled.

Warmly.

Genuinely.

“As strange as it sounds, Sir Christian…”

Her eyes drifted toward the direction of Lena’s chambers.

“…you didn’t take my future away. You gave me one.”

Christian’s vision blurred.

And for the first time in years, some small part of the guilt he had carried finally began to loosen.